


i reached for a love, tucked too deep in your heart

by ilovethisfeeling



Series: we were gods before this [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovethisfeeling/pseuds/ilovethisfeeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe knows that he wants them to last, knows that he and Kylo have a long way to go, but he wants them to get there and so they’ll keep themselves tucked away from the world. </p>
<p>Because they need to. </p>
<p>Because they deserve this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i reached for a love, tucked too deep in your heart

For a long time, neither of them talk about it. What this has become between them. Partly, Poe thinks, it’s because Kylo (sometimes it’s Ben, but mostly it’s Kylo, and he isn’t sure when and why the switches happen, but then again he doesn’t think Kylo is all that sure either so he doesn’t question it) is scared of what people would think - not of him, because Kylo has long since stopped caring about what others think of him, which makes Poe sad sometimes because he knows that there’s a good reason for that particular defence mechanism - but of what people would think of Poe. Which is ridiculous, but annoyingly enough, Poe sort of gets it. 

He’s under no illusions about what his rank, his position within the Resistance means. The heavy weight of responsibility doesn’t lift simply because he’s not in the air. People judge him and by extension, his team based on his actions and he knows that there are many within the Resistance who wouldn’t want to trust a man who’s seeing the turncoat who has killed countless of their own. 

So they keep it quiet partly because Kylo is afraid of the consequences of their relationship (and is it a relationship? He sort of wishes it was, but he doesn’t want to push for an answer.) but mostly because it’s nice to have something that is theirs and only theirs. There is something safe about the hidden touches and the quiet questions, something charming about the way Kylo isn’t afraid to laugh when he’s with him, something mesmerising about the way they seem to fit together, all splintered edges and broken pieces. 

Because they are broken and Poe knows this, deep in his bones. There’s a constant ache that he can feel in his gut when he’s left to his thoughts. There are nights that he can’t sleep, nights where he’ll wake up screaming and Kylo will brush large hands over his sides, fingers so gentle they caress the scars left by shrapnel and he’ll whisper apologies into his hair, never asking for forgiveness or redemption because they both know that on nights that those, Poe isn’t always capable of giving either. There are days when he won’t be able to find Kylo, when the other man will hide from everyone, when the blood on his hands won’t wash down the drain and there is nothing anyone - not Poe, not the General, not the medical team - can do to make him see past the red of his lightsaber and the blood that he is permanently drenched in.

Neither of them know what they’re doing, not really, and maybe that’s the true reason they keep this thing that’s blossoming new buds of hope secret and safe from the world around them. Poe knows that he wants them to last, knows that he and Kylo have a long way to go, but he wants them to get there and so they’ll keep themselves tucked away from the world. 

Because they _need_ to. 

Because they _deserve_ this.

He’s lying in Kylo’s bed, fingers tracing the mottled skin on his stomach from where Finn had blasted him open, bleeding and raw and violent as a caged dog. “How’d you survive this?” He asks, pressing down gently and enjoying the feeling of warm skin and hard muscle jump slightly under his touch. Keeping his eyes on Kylo, he watchesas his expression as it turns from peaceful to thoughtful. A few weeks ago, he’d asked the same question and Kylo had flinched, batted his hands away and said nothing. This, he thinks, is an improvement.

Eventually, Kylo turns to look at him, dark eyes searching and Poe guesses that he finds what he’s looking for because he covers Poe’s hand with his but doesn’t push him away. “The short answer is the Force. Long answer… I don’t know, I needed to complete my mission. Failure - dying - wasn’t an option,” He says, dropping his head against a pillow. “I just… couldn’t fail, I was so angry, so hyped on adrenaline and fear. I think it actually helped in the end - no, I’m serious,” He says at Poe’s incredulous snort. “I was tiring myself out fighting them, and the pain… You channel it into anger and the anger fuels the Force and suddenly you can go on.” Poe doesn’t miss the dissociation, but he doesn’t mention it. They all deal with their demons in different ways and Kylo is surprisingly good at talking about his past transgressions. 

He isn’t so good at talking about how he felt committing them.

“That makes sense… The adrenaline I mean. I get that.” He says softly, thinking back to all the times where he’d been on duty for two cycles and the only thing keeping him going was the rush that flooded his bloodstream, drowning him completely when an enemy craft started shooting. “You go for so long and there comes a point where you’re running on empty and you need something to… kickstart you, I suppose.” It’s not the same, he knows that. He can’t hope to truly understand Kylo’s thought process, the way his mind worked - stills works, because Kylo will never be Ben again, not truly, and he’ll never be an innocent again, he was baptised in blood and mind games and nothing will change that but Poe _wants_ to try anyway.

Because whilst Kylo will never be Ben again, he’ll never be _Kylo Ren_ again either.

Kylo nods slowly, his gaze distant, but the hand running idly through Poe’s hair is comforting and grounding. Silence wraps around them, soft and safe, and Poe wonders if this is how they move forward, if the gentle touches and quiet moments are slowly healing them. Kylo smiles at that, and Poe knows he heard the stray thought and marvels at the realisation that a few months ago, Kylo reading his mind had sent chills of fear running down his spine. Now it does nothing but reminds him that there is perhaps someone who understands him completely and what’s more, doesn’t care that not all his thoughts are kind. Some of them are angry and violent, sometimes he’s vicious and cruel and Kylo has never once recoiled from him.

“Of course I don’t.” Kylo murmurs, the hand covering his squeezes and his strokes a thumb over his knuckles. “It would be hypocritical of me if I did.” And that sums them up really; both of them have a darkness to them, but they fight in the Light, for the Light and with the Light. “I always used to think that there was only one way… Everything was driven by this desire, or need I suppose, to prove myself, to become more powerful.” Kylo says with a sigh, “I was terrified of failing Snoke, I don’t think there’s ever been anyone I’ve wanted to impress more. And now… the General and Luke have been talking about me possibly joining Rey in her training… to fight against Snoke.” His voice is quiet. He sounds more like a scared child than he does a grown man and Poe is reminded of just how deeply Snoke messed up his mind. It makes him burn with an intensity that almost frightens him and Kylo frowns, twists to kiss his forehead. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I know I have to… I know I do, but I don’t know if I _can_.” This is whispered so quietly that Poe isn’t sure if he was meant to hear it except Kylo doesn’t keep these things from him, not anymore.

“What do you mean?” He asks, twisting around so that he’s lying on his stomach, legs intertwined with Kylo’s, hands splayed protectively across his abdomen. Poe can understand not wanting to fight - or rather he can understand why Kylo wouldn’t want to fight anymore, personally, he feels like he’d suffocate if he was grounded for good, and that’s something that he’ll have to bring up with one of the psych doctors at some point but not right now. What he doesn’t understand is why Kylo is saying he _can’t_. “You still have the Force, your saber…there’s isn’t any reason you couldn’t.” 

This turns out to be the wrong thing to say entirely because Kylo sits up, pulls away from Poe’s touch and a shadow crosses his features, dark eyes hardening into something that Poe recognises and _wishes_ that he didn’t. Kylo doesn’t lose his temper anymore - too hollowed out by the war to truly connect with the anger that had once fuelled him, but he still _rages_. It’s ice and lightning that comes in flashes and it leaves Poe breathless with confusion and fear.

“I can sure. I can destroy anything you want me to, my _ability_ to cause destruction hasn’t gone but my desire to has. You think I want to be my mother’s pet Sith in training? You think _I_ want to any part in this war?” He asks, voice thin and dangerous as black ice though Poe can tell that he’s struggling to pull himself together, fingers binding themselves in knots as he tries to control his breathing. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m not that person anymore.” A pause, and then Kylo says very quietly, “I _can’t_ be that person anymore.” The anger that had flickered in Kylo fizzles and sputters and suddenly he’s just a scared, fragile man. 

So very human and so very _heartbreaking_. 

“Why can no one understand that?” The _‘why can you not understand that?’_ remains unspoken but Poe hears it anyway. And the thing is, he can’t understand it - he’s driven by his duty to the resistance, to the General and to his team. He can’t imagine not diving into the fray. It’s goes deeper than a desire to make his seniors and his team proud, it’s goes deeper than his own ideologies and the fact that he truly believes in what he’s fighting for even. It’s a physical pull that draws him in. The adrenaline and the thrill of the chase, the sense of euphoria that overwhelms him when they successfully complete a mission.

He can’t imagine voluntarily walking away from it.

He doesn’t know how to explain it to Kylo.

Slowly, he rolls into a sitting position, folding his legs underneath him and regards Kylo for a long, slow minute. The quiet enfolds them once more, shrouding them in a hazy calm that should be out of place given Kylo’s momentary flash of anger, but it doesn’t somehow. The man on the bed besides him is scared and broken, though maybe a little less broken than before - before, Poe thinks he would have jumped at the chance to fight - to prove himself - he thinks that maybe he’s becoming more rational and more understanding of his own limitations and of who he is underneath the chaos and bloodshed that birthed him fully formed as the leader of the Knights of Ren.

Ben never wanted to be a leader. Never wanted to be a fighter. 

“Ben,” He starts, smiling gently as the man looks up, eyes wide and sad. It’s becoming easier to know when the man that he’s slowly falling for is more Ben than he is Kylo. “Ben, you’re right. I don’t understand,” at the stuttering pain and worry that creases his eyes, Poe quickly continues, “But I’ll support you, no matter what. You don’t want to fight? Then that’s fine, we’ll figure it out. I don’t want to push you to be anyone you don’t want to be, okay?”

Neither of them know if it’s enough, but Ben’s eyes shine with gratitude that he can’t put into words, and the last of his wariness crumbles, leaving him sagging forward into Poe’s arm. He curls around Poe, presses dry, warm lips against his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. 

Words become meaningless in this moment. They transcend language together, falling and soaring into the depths of their emotions and Poe can _feel_ Ben’s mind shining. He can’t help but remember the way that Kylo had wrenched his mind open, but this is _so_ entirely different to that. This is kind and caring, an overflow of sweetness and sincerity that Ben can’t keep to himself. It floods their systems, locking them together as they hold each other tight. Poe buries his face in the crook of Ben’s neck, safe and secure in this broken mess of a man.

“Ever think about what we’d be if we hadn’t started?” He asks, voice muffed against Ben’s skin. He’s thought about this before, wondered what they would be if he had taken Ben up on his offer to leave that night in the hangar. If the nightmares that had plagued him would still be lurking in the recesses of his mind, if anyone would ever be graced with Ben’s laughter.

Mostly he wonders if either of them would heal if they hadn’t have started this.

Ben hums into his hair, long fingers brushing against a jagged gash at the base of his back left over from an adventure in an X-Wing with a faulty exhaust. He doesn’t respond for several seconds, taking his time to thumb over the thoughts and imagined _what-if_ scenarios in his head before replying, “I imagine that you’d be as well liked as ever, best pilot in the galaxy, Leia’s right-hand man… You’d carry on as normal. And I…” He trails off, and his fingers dig a little deeper, grasp at Poe’s shoulders and waist a little tighter, as if reminding himself that Poe is there, with him, that _this_ is his reality.

“I’m glad we started.” Poe says, cutting off Ben’s thoughts with kindness and affection. 

“Well, _that’s_ a relief.” And suddenly, Ben is more Kylo than he is Ben; the dry humour that’s sometimes a defence mechanism (this is one of those times, Poe can tell) but is mostly just how Kylo is, is a tell-tale sign. “… I am too, though.”

Kylo presses a kiss into Poe’s hairline, touches his lips to Poe’s eyelids and the tip of his nose - soft and gentle and it’s these touches that Poe loves most. There is a time for urgency, for the hurried yanking of clothes and the wild frenzy that lights Kylo’s eyes in the dark, and he loves those moments too. Loves the way he feels like he could burn under Kylo’s fingers, and way he can grip and push and bite and know that Kylo will give as good as he gets. He loves the moments after when the adrenaline fades and they’re left tangled in each other, their breaths coming out harsh and heavy. 

But these gentle touches that are kind and sweet and make time seem meaningless that Poe falls asleep thinking about. He is always aware at the back of his mind that he might not make it back the next time he’s sent on a mission, but when Kylo kisses him like they have all the time in the world, when he brushes his fingers against his skin like he’s trying to commit every birthmark, every scar, every inch of him to memory, Poe remembers why he started fighting in the first place. It’s not because it’s his duty, or because of his loyalty, or even because it’s the right thing to do; he started because he wanted to create a galaxy where everyone could have these moments of peace and tranquility.

He continues because maybe Kylo gives him hope that when this is all over, they’ll have time to truly understand what peace is together.


End file.
